The Various Origins of Osmond DarlingBlackadder
by Feared-Director
Summary: noone knows where he came from. so let's make it up.
1. Origin the First

a/n: Being completely uninspired and ache-y, I went to the internet and found that article about Sir Osmond Darling-Blackadder on that page that has it. And after hiding in the laundry room because of the storm (thunder shudders scaaaaary) I wrote this. There will be more, as i think of them.  
  
It had taken ages. Well, maybe not ages, but a long time. The Doctors Darling and Blackadder (respectively... for now) had been working on him for ten long years. A whole decade. And he was finished.  
  
The he in question was a young man. Osmond, they called him. He was a splice of the two scientists DNA. Their child.  
  
I suppose this need a bit of a back ground, doesn't it? A little history. Well then.  
  
Darling, Kevin Darling and Edmund Blackadder had met in a post-secondary establishment. Which post-secondary establishment and where it was, is still uncertain, just the one they attended, wherever that might be. They had been roommates, much to their mutual dismay. At first sight, they couldn't stand each other.  
  
However, they were, after all, majoring in the same thing, after several months of quips and sarcastic one-liner insults and then a minor mental breakdown of Kevin Darling's part, they became study buddies and lab partners. With two of the greatest scientific minds on campus working together the pseudo-random ideas were boundless.  
  
Osmond, or the idea of him, did not appear until their last year, when Kevin and Edmund's relationship had shifted a bit.  
  
Neither of them could remember exactly what had happened. They remember a rugby game, and their mutual sort-of friend George (a visual arts major, how he survived elementary school was a great scientific mystery noone had figured out yet) had spent a great deal of time in nothing but a pink grass skirt, Kevin had broken his nose somehow and somebody (all guesses were on George, because he was odd like that) shouting "I love you!"  
  
The long and short of that story is their was a kiss. One moment of amazing, mind-blowing, relationship altering mouth to mouth contact. And then another. And another.  
  
By the time they were to graduate they were, essentially all but married (although they were planning on going to Canada any day now), they were sporadically affectionate, but still managed to jibe and insult each other. For fun. Yeah, they were a bit weird themselves, but they were crazy science students.  
  
Their mutual friend, Doris (she had dated Kevin for a while, all parties involved, and a few that weren't, were certain they would've gotten married had other interferences, as Edmund was lovingly referred as, not been there) had married some bloke named 'Ace'. Ace was a complete egotistical jerk, but he was really nice to Doris. It was the rest of the human race he had problems with. As stated, they had, at some point, gotten married, neither Kevin nor Edmund remembered going to a wedding and so pouted and teased about not being invited. And then it was explained they had eloped, which worked for everybody. They also revealed that they were trying for children. Several children, actually.  
  
It was at this point that Kevin had leaned against Edmund and announced that he wanted children. Edmund had kept most of his cuttingly sarcastic comments to himself, but something about gene splicing had essentially fallen out of his mouth. And thus the idea for Osmond was born.  
  
And now they stood in front of the large glass tube, fingers intertwined and the fluid drained and Osmond woke for the first time. Osmond blinked and looked around blearily. The tube was removed and Kevin Darling handed his son a towel.  
  
Osmond, after a few moments of orientation with his surroundings asked who, exactly, he was. His fathers introduced him as Osmond Darling Blackadder. He went on to be the first genetically engineered man to be in charge of the Queen's lawn sprinklers. 


	2. Origin the Second

A little boy sat in the corner, moping. In another corner, on the oppisite side of the room, a diferent little boy, who was moping just as much, sat. In the next room two woman sat, trying to figure out what to do.  
  
Their two sons, Osmond Blackadder and Kevin Darling didn't get along. Which was a pity, because their mothers were the best of friends and visited with each other every weekend. Since there was noone else availiable to watch the children, they had to bring them. These visits always led to the two children brawling and a bloody nose and a split lip. Had done since they were old enough to pack enough pwoer into a punch to do damage.  
  
"We need to think of something." One mother said, looking into the other room, where one boy had turned around to stick his tongue out at the other. "Face your corner!"  
  
"We do. But what?"  
  
After a few hours, in which the boys had been released, got into another fight and put back in the corners, the mothers had decided something. It didn't make the most sense, but it might work.  
  
The next morning, little Osmond Blackadder's mum took him down to the court house, where they met with Kevin Darling and his mum. After a few minutes of talking (or face making and whispered insults between the two boys) they went in.  
  
How the plan worked without any real cause for it, we may never know. But, it should be noted that the two boys came out of the court house Kevin Darling-Blackadder and Osmond Darling-Blackadder. They were brothers by name now.  
  
This was supposed to have made them hate each other less. It almost worked. It's almost worked until they were in their late teens, when something about the arrangement combined with something about Osmond had Really Pissed Him Off. He had left home and moved far away. He did, however, remain in touch with Osmond. They sent one another insulting postcards.  
  
Even after Osmond moved to become the man in charge of the Queen's lawn sprinklers, a week didn't go by without a postcard.  
  
This postcard answered the question he had asked about why Kevin had disappeared.  
  
Dear Git,  
  
I disappeared because I left, idiot. Why did I leave? Well that's more complicated. You see, we are brothers by name. And that bothered me. I cannot think of a subtle way to put this, so I'm going to drop it on you, if it hits too hard, take a nap and then get back to me. You see, I love you.  
  
Write back eventually, even if it's to tell me off.  
  
Kevin  
  
a/n: ....and I think I'll just leave it there. So, origin two. Done. Four more to go until I have to start thinking again. And long live The Slash! 


	3. Origin the Third

Osmond Blackadder straightened his tie and looked around the room nervously. He was getting married. Today. To his worst enemy/best friend/love of his life Kevin Darling. And he was terribly, terribly tense. In a few short hours he would be out there, with all the people, in This Suit and getting married.   
  
As said, terribly, terribly tense.  
  
His 'best man', though he didn't really want to call him that, but he had to live with that, S. Baldrick, his underling, sat in the corner, watching him pace. And pace he did. Pace Pace Pace.   
  
"What time is it?" He snapped, Baldrick jumped, and looked at his watch.  
  
"It is.... three o'clock." Came the answer, Osmond looked at the clock above the door. It was 11:30.   
  
"Your watch is dead. Again. I don't know why I bother asking, you are as useful in this situation as a con opener to defend me from a bear." With that the pacing began again.  
  
The door opened, and closed. Kevin's 'best man' (Osmond didn't understand why they had agreed to the whole best man thing. Nothing about this wedding was traditional. Except maybe the officiating man. But he doesn't count.) the Ditz himself, George sauntered in with a big, watery smile on his face.  
  
He took one look at Osmond and burst into very large tears. Osmond goggled.  
  
Noone said anything for a very long time.  
  
When George had regained temporary composure he managed to say something about it's time and promptly burst into very large tears.  
  
"Well then get a move on. I'll have time ot kill after this specticle is over." Osmond growled, pushing George out of the room and dragging Baldrick behind him.   
  
They got to where the ceremony would be taking place, outside a small sushi resteraunt in the city, because noone could think of anywhere better for it to be. The officiating gentleman, Anthony Melchett stood with his cue cards, grinning like a deranged troll doll. Kevin was standing in his suit calmly and methodically shredding a napkin someone had let him get his hands on.  
  
"Sorry. Your friend couldn't stop bawling to get anything across. Are we ready?" There was a large group nod and Melchett starting speaking.  
  
In all honesty, neither Kevin nor Osmond really paid attention to what was being said. Care for him forever, never betray him, blah blah blah. We KNOW.  
  
Eventually they exchanged curt and mildly sarcastic vows, much to the amusement of friends and family gathered. And finally, they got to kiss.  
  
And kiss they did. The world faded around them, they understood what their mothers had been saying now, when they had told them stories of their first kiss once married. It was different, somehow, but still familliar and comfy.  
  
After a while the never ending need for oxygen hit, and they broke apart, both smiling like idiots as the group around them cheered (or cried loudly, as the case may be) and Melchett got to say the most beautiful thing Osmond had heard since Kevin had said he'd marry him.  
  
"I now pronounce you Kevin and Osmond Darling-Blackadder."  
  
a/n: I absolutely HAD to write a wedding. I love weddings. And so, they got married. I'm not sure if I did the wedding very well, but I haven't married anything yet. So here to an inexperienced wedding. (raises condiment container filled with gingerale) and to the happy grooms, no? 


	4. Origin the Fourth

Osmond Darling-Blackadder sat on the edge of his bathtub. When had things become like this? How had everything changed so drastically? He wasn't unhappy or anything, just rightfully confused.  
  
He looked around the disgustingly tidy bathroom, as though it might hold the answer. Surprisingly enough, it did. A tube of orange flavoured toothpaste, half empty, lay on the sink next to the two green toothbrushes. Toothpaste. That was what had started everything.  
  
A few mere months ago, Osmond had lived in a scuckly little bachelor pad above a tiny sushi restaurant. He lived in it with a large pile of very old newspapers, a mini fridge full of peanut butter and two cleans socks. One gray, one a bright, vibrant purple.  
  
And no toothpaste.  
  
All other problems were forgivable, but Osmond -needed- toothpaste. So, with that in mind, Osmond went to the store for toothpaste, crackers (for the peanut butter) and a spare tire.   
  
The store didn't sell spare tires, but Osmond shrugged, then he wouldn't have to wheel it home. He loaded up on cheap saltine crackers and headed to the Dental Hygiene area. There was a single tube of his favorite toothpaste (orange flavored) left. He grabbed for it. So did another hand. Both hands got hold of the tube at the same time. Osmond turned a bit to look at the intruding hand, his eyes followed the hand to an intruding arm, an intruding shoulder, back, neck and finally head, with intruding eyes staring fixedly at the tube of orange flavored toothpaste they were both clutching.  
  
That had been the first meeting, they had stood like that until some woman had come out of nowhere and plucked it out of their unsuspecting hands. They had smiled wanly at eachother and gone their separate ways.  
  
Osmond had been certain that would be the last time they saw eachother. But, lo and behold, next week, when Osmond went on another toothpaste run, who did he run into at the Dental Hygiene area? That's right, the other fan of orange flavored toothpaste.  
  
There had been a brief conversation and the next thing Osmond knew he was sitting across the table from this man outside a café drinking iced tea. Osmond admitted to himself that he was rather pleased with this turn of events.  
  
Months crawled by and there had been more meetings at cafés as well as movies seen and several games of air hockey played. Eventually, they moved in together. They got a nice place. Two bedrooms, the rent wasn't too bad, nice part of town, close to work.  
  
An outing to the movies had resulted in a kiss and a bewildered Osmond had realized that he might be in love with someone he had met at the store while buying toothpaste.  
  
Soon after this mental revelation Osmond had had the courage to say "Darling... I love you... is that alright?"  
  
Darling (for that was his name, there was just never a good place to point that out) had made a squeaky noise and tackled poor Osmond to the floor. The neighbors below them banged on their ceiling with a broom because of that tackle, but neither had really noticed.  
  
Another month later and Osmond had emerged from a courthouse with his ex-roommate with a new name. Osmond Darling-Blackadder.   
  
Osmond stood up, washed his hands and brushed his teeth.  
  
Upon exciting the bathroom, he snuck up on his ex-roommate and kissed him, tasting of oranges.  
  
a/n: I'm actually doing two toothpaste ones. This one's the normal one. The other is REALLY WEIRD. And was, in fact, inspired by a dream I had last night where in I rped as Lister and the person who was Rimmer told me his real last name was Wanda. Does that make sense? Probably not. Also, this chapter is dedicated to PalletShade. Because she suggested it and because I (according to her) made her want to slash Blackadder. I'm actually very proud of that. Also, I may take her up on that offer, provided she has a nose. Do you have a nose? 


	5. Origin the Fifth

Noone really knew exactly what happened. One morning Edmund Blackadder had excused himself from the communal table (yes, everyone had to share that table. And the things that happened to that table... shudders) to go brush his teeth and then noone had ever heard from him again.  
  
Some thought he'd commited some huge rime and run away to Florida. Why Florida peple asked. He'd run to Florida because it was hot. And then they'd nodded and gone back to their tea.  
  
Other's thought he'd been abducted by aliens. Okay, one guy thought he'd been abducted by aliens, and he was the closest. He had been abducted, but not by aliens.  
  
When Edmund had gone to his bathroom and picked up his tube of orange-flavoured toothpaste, he had ripped open a hole in space time and created a linkway between this exsistance and another. Because he was the disgustingly curious little weasel that he was, he squeezed himself into the minute space and left his dimension.  
  
Upon reaching the other side he was his in the head with a large stack of paper, effectively knocking him out. He was then gagged, bound and attatched to a coffee table and taken to a small apartment in somewhere that isn't Florida.  
  
When he woke there was a man sitting in an arm chair sorting through the very stack of paper that had caused the head trauma he had very recenetly suffered. The paper in question had lots of writing on it, except for the parts of it that appeared to be green constrution paper. Or large puzzle pieces.  
  
After regaining his bearings, or regaining as much of his bearings as one could regain while tied to a coffee table he started asking questions.  
  
Unfortunately for him, he had, in fact, been gagged, and so the other man didn't notice him until he started wiggling.  
  
"Oh." The other man said, dropping a large stack of green construction paper on the floor. "Would you like something?"  
  
Edmund made more 'I'm-gagged-you-git' noises. So the other man ungagged him.   
  
"Who are you? Where am I? Why did you tie me to a coffee table? Why did you tie me up at all? How did I get here? Why are there puzzle pieces in that stack of paper?" Rushed out of Edmund's mouth.  
  
"I am Kevin Darling. You are in my office, where, coincidentally enough, I live. I tied you to a coffee table because I'm running short on chairs. I didn't actually tie you up. My associates who are out for lunch, did. We tied you up to keep you from escaping. You got here by dimension jumping through your bathroom. There are puzzle pieces in this stack of paper because I'm in the middle of doing a puzzle and sorting out paperwork. Does that answer all your questions?"  
  
"NO!" Edmund shouted, glaring. He didn't look paticularily intimidating, if only because he was tied to a coffee table. "How did I... dimension jump here? Where is here? Don't I know you from somewhere?"  
  
"Remember that green glowy thing you crawled through?" Edmund nodded. "That was a link way between your exsistance and mine. Here is my dimension, I am in charge of travel between the two dimensions. I am also in charge of you until we know who you were there and who you are here. You might know me from your dimension, but I could be anything from a chair to a rabbit."  
  
Marginally satisfied with this information, Edmund took this moment to go to sleep. Let his subconsious sort this out. Maybe he'd wake up and everything would be normal.  
  
Kevin, meanwhile, had to figure out where this guy belonged in this reality. If he was a fire hydrant or something, he'd just make several false documents and send him on his way. If he already exsisted, he'd have to change his identity.  
  
Later that month, Kevin was still poring over files in search of an exsisting Edmund Blackadder who was in the place of exsistance that this Edmund would be in otherwise.  
  
Edmund had been untied from the coffee table and had been put to work on the puzzle Kevin had been working on.  
  
"Ah ha!" Kevin said one day. "I've found you. Edmund Blackadder. Married. Two children and a dog named... Baldrick? Whatever. So you exsist. We'll have to alter you slightly."  
  
"Alter me?" Edmund asked, looking up from the almost complete puzzle. "How so?"  
  
"Change your name. Change your hair colour. I don't know, maybe we'll do something to your eyebrows." Kevin said, picking up a dusty blue telephone and dialing some unknown number. "And we'll have to get you a job." He returned his attention to the phone. "Hello, George? We have one. Yes. Yes. Stop asking questions and just come here you idiot. You can ask him questions. Honestly, you're no smarter than an ant that's been crushed be a large pink clog. Yes. No. Come here. No. No. NO! Alright fine."  
  
Kevin slammed down the phone. Edmund raised an eyebrow.  
  
"He's bringing his cat." Edmund nodded in understanding. "So... do you have any preferences in names?"  
  
"Something simaler to my current one if it wouldn't be too much trouble." Kevin nodded.   
  
"I think we could keep your last name... we'd just need to add something to it. Another last name. Suggestions?" Kevin had brought out a canary yellow notepad and was scribbling into it.   
  
"What's your last name again?"  
  
"Darling?"  
  
"That works."  
  
"Alright. Hello Mr. Darling-Blackadder. Osmond Darling-Blackadder."  
  
"I think I can work with that."  
  
There was a knock on the door. Edmund, who was now Osmond, opened it. Another mysterious man walked in, dropping a cat who yowled and danced (yes, danced, but only in a fasion that a cat on four legs can) out of the room. The man then turned sharply and gave Osmond a long look.  
  
"So this is him then?" Kevin nodded. "What's his name?"  
  
"George," Kevin said quietly. "This is Osmond Darling-Blackadder."  
  
George looked at Kevin with a puzzled expression on his face. Then he looked at Osmond. Then back at Kevin. Then back at Osmond. The something like understanding exploded like an atomic bomb on his face.  
  
"You married him! Wow!" George said. Osmond and Kevin looked at him with a mix between shock, confusion, amusement and a bit of almost longing.  
  
"I didn't marry him George." Kevin said after a while.  
  
"Sure you did. Wow. I'd better be going then. Don't want to disturb the love nest." At this point in time, he elbowed Osmond lightly, Osmond turned a light shade of pink. It should be noted that up until this paticular time, a Blackadder had never blushed. But that's centuries of blushing just fighting to get out. It escaped. All over Osmond Darling-Blackadder's face. "I'll tell head quarters to leave you alone, alright?"  
  
Before anyone could protest George and his dancing Cat were gone. Kevin looked at Osmond apologetically.  
  
"Well. We're as good as married now. Headquarters are twice as thick as George. Sorry. You're technically bound to be for life." Osmond shrugged.  
  
"Could be worse." He paused. "So do I get a job?"  
  
After a week of planning and choosing, Osmond was employed as The Man in Charge of The Queen's Lawn Sprinklers. Also, after a week of living and spontaneous visits from what Kevin called 'People From Work' Kevin and Osmond had gotten used to 'married life'.   
  
A year after this, Kevin and Osmond actually considered getting legally married. But we'll keep you up to date on that.  
  
a/n: okay... the original written thingy I wrote in my head while brushing my teeth was a bit weirder. This chapter is for my loony subconsious who think's Rimmer's last name is Wanda and introduced me to the Queen of England yesterday. She got splashed when a Blue Whale appeared out of nowhere and jumped in the water next to her. Yeah. I'm weird. I don't think the Wanda thing had anythign to do with a Fish Called Wanda because I haven't actually seen it. But maybe that's it. 


	6. Origin the Sixth

Osmond opened his eyes, groaned and tried to remember where he was. The ceiling above was unfamiliar. The smells around his were unfamiliar and judging by the weight and the sound of breathing on his left hand side, he wasn't alone.  
  
Rather than turning to his left to find out who and or what was next to him, and assess the situation, Osmond decided to stall the inevitable and continue staring at that ceiling he had never seen before.  
  
He remembered going to Las Vegas. Why, he was uncertain, aside from the fact that it had seemed like a good idea at the time. That and the airfare there was cheap. He also remember wandering around outside in the sweltering heat and taking refuge inside the Hilton.  
  
He remembered reading a sign, saying that the Annual (14th? 15? 2nd? He couldn't remember) Star Trek convention was starting that day. The hotel was air conditioned and he didn't feel much like gambling, so he bought himself a ticket at the door. Not a very good ticket, but a ticket.  
  
He was feeling rather science fiction-y.  
  
He also remembered running into someone and having lemon juice spilled in his eye. This had lead him to the first aid room, cunning named 'The Sickbay'. He had his eye washed out by a very nice first aid attendant and had been given a two dollar voucher for the restaurant downstairs.   
  
Figuring 'what the hell' he went down to that restaurant.   
  
The line was long, but the food was supposedly good, and he'd get two dollars off whatever it was he ordered, right? The guy in front of him in line turned slightly, to look at him.  
  
"Are you here alone too?" He asked, Osmond nodded. "D'you want to share a table then, we'll probably get a table faster." Osmond gave him a look, a 'what-who-excuse-me?' look. "I'm Kevin Darling, I'm in front of you in this line. I'm proposing we share a table."  
  
Osmond considered this. Then accepted. Kevin smiled, Osmond smiled. Then he introduced himself. And so the small talk went on.  
  
Eventually they did get their table, and, consequently, their menus. Osmond read the menu, puzzled. He had no idea what anything was. What's a Klingon? They drink blood? Kevin closed his menu, having decided and watched the looks of incredulity flash across Osmond's face. Osmond put down the menu, resolving to have whatever Kevin had, and smiled weakly. Kevin leaned over the table.  
  
"You have no idea what anything is. Do you?" Osmond admitted that, Kevin nodded. "Alright. D'you like pasta?" Osmond answered in the affirmative. "Alright. Get... this." Kevin pointed, Osmond looked, something complicated sounding. "It's essentially fetichini alfredo. And to drink... would you like something 'interesting?"   
  
Osmond, foolishly, nodded.  
  
After this Osmond wound up with a really good pasta dish and a drink in a large cup that smoked.  
  
But after that, everything was a blur.  
  
Something involving the goblin song that had never escaped any man in his family when they got drunk. And driving to somewhere..  
  
Osmond finally turned to see who was in his (at least he thought it was his) bed with him.  
  
"Kevin...Kevin Darling?" He croaked, the other man's nose scrunched up, and the eyes opened slowly.  
  
"Not so loud." He mumbled, closing his eyes. They shot open again. "Osmond?"  
  
"Yeah. Umm.. what are you doing here?" Osmond asked, Kevin looked at him blankly. And then slowly, slowly sat up. He then rolled gracefully out of the bed and crawled in the direction of something on the floor. A small black box. He grabbed it and crawled back. Climbing back into the bed he looked at the box.   
  
It was a video cassette.  
  
The video cassette, as it turned out, was of a wedding. A Klingon wedding. Their Klingon wedding.  
  
After watching it they stared at one another dumbfounded.  
  
"We got married... in Klingon tradition." Osmond said after a while, only just grasping what a Klingon was.  
  
"I didn't think that was possible." Kevin said. "I didn't think there was such a thing as a Klingon homosexual wedding." There was a pause, they looked at each other. "I should write this down." Kevin said after a minute. "I know some guys who are going to go nuts about this."  
  
"Right." Osmond said, raising an eyebrow. "So. We're married."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"To eachother."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And we are currently where?"  
  
"In an apartment in..." Kevin looked out a window. "Somewhere that isn't Las Vegas," he paused, picked up a piece of paper on the nightstand. "That belongs to Kevin and Osmond Darling-Blackadder."  
  
"In our new apartment."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And all you can think about is telling someone that men can marry each other as Klingons?"  
  
"Well, I have several other things on my mind, and they're all very pressing. However, this one thing is the easiest to grasp. So I'm working on it."  
  
"Right. You've married me and we've gotten ourselves somewhere to live, despite the fact that we haven't any idea where we are."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Does this bother you?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
Kevin and Osmond shared a look. Not a bad look, a good look. A look that spoke volumes and lasted for but a second.  
  
"Doesn't really bother me either."  
  
There was another moment of silence.  
  
"And it'll keep my mother off my back about getting married."  
  
Several months later, they parted ways. They had to work out exactly what had happened in that night they had gotten hitched and found an apartment. But eventually, they had to return o their proper lives. It didn't last long. They had gotten used to one another.   
  
They met in the summer, in Las Vegas, in line at the star trek themed restaurant.  
  
Kevin had asked him what he was doing there.  
  
Osmond had explained he still had a two dollar off coupon.  
  
a/n: I watched The Search for Spock last night. And was feeling very Trekkie. And no multi-chapter fic is complete without Trekkie!Darling. And for the record it is true that the first aide room in the Hilton (or at leas the Star Trek part) is called the sickbay. My mum got fluff in her eye once there and we go to go to it. I will halt with the nerd-ness now. Really. 


	7. Origin the Seventh

Kevin met Osmond cleaning fish.   
  
It was just a summer job, Kevin had no plans of ever doing this again, but the pay was good even if the work itself turned your brain to mush, and Kevin did need the money. So there he stood, in a yellow rubber apron, with yellow rubber gloves and a knife cutting off the fins and scraping the insides of salmon after salmon after salmon.  
  
Osmond had been standing next to him.  
  
Kevin had originally come here for work with his best friend and roomate, Arnold. Arnold, unfortunately had fainted during the first practical demonstration of how to clean a fish. The poor thing couldn't stand the sight of blood. And when cleaning a fish here one had to run the dull side of one's knife down it's spine to get rid of the blood.  
  
Arnold had reapplied for a office job, and the lucky bastard got it.  
  
Which left Kevin alone, with his apron, his gloves, his knife and his blue coveralls. Osmond had smiled in a non-smiling fashion at him, and said hello.  
  
Kevin and Osmond stood side by side and cleaned fish in a companionable silence. When the morning break signal went, they had removed their gloves, washed there hands and walked upstairs to the lunchroom together. Morning break was only 15 minutes long, both Arnold and Kevin knew they wouldn't see each other until lunch, at least. So Kevin had stuck with Osmond, they had introduced themselves to one another, and gotten a cup of coffee. After a minute or so of sitting and sipping in relative piece something loud and bouncy landed next to Osmond at the table.  
  
It was Dave, Osmond's friend who had also opted to clean fish for the summer. Dave however, had been moved from cleaning fish to rescuing whole ones from the almost liquefaction that happened to all fish parts on the pollution line. And he was quite keen to tell both of them all about it.   
  
Both of them, for once, unable to think of a sarcastic come back just nodded and Dave, though disappointed at the lack of response, fixed this silence by unsubtly stealing Osmond's coffee. There was a brief argument, but the buzzer went off and the trio trudged back to work.  
  
When lunch came, Kevin hunted down Arnold and dragged him to eat lunch with his two new acquaintances. Almost immediately Arnold and Dave got into an argument, Osmond and Kevin decided not to run interference, and if they both got in trouble so be it, they argued like children anyway.  
  
"You know what happened just before lunch?" Dave asked Arnold, who gave him a look, a 'what?' look. "This guy came with a trolley, and on this trolley were these four containers, filled to the brim with fish guts. And he dumped them onto the pollution line. It was a thing of beauty. All those oranges and browns and purples."  
  
Arnold turned rather green, Kevin stifled his snicker, Osmond didn't manage it.  
  
This pattern continued, Osmond and Kevin would sit in companionable silence, just as they stood in companionable silence while working. Dave and Arnold would trade minor insults and even more minor compliments.  
  
And then it happened.  
  
Arnold had left the room for a moment, and one of the dumber office staff had accidental burnt all of the files.  
  
It was a travesty.  
  
The office staff had to work double time just to get all the information back. The ditz and his other ditzy friend had been sent to go get the required information from the fish cleaners.   
  
The had stood side by side and questioned Kevin and Osmond Simultaneously.  
  
"First name?"  
  
"Kevin."  
  
"Osmond."  
  
"Last name?"  
  
"Darling."  
  
"Blackadder."  
  
"Kevin and Osmond Darling-Blackadder?"  
  
"Are you brothers or something?"  
  
"They don't look alike."  
  
"True. Oh well. Messrs. Darling-Blackadder, where do you live?"  
  
a/n: I've been cleaning fish. Well, that's not true, I did what Dave said he's been doing. All day. Which is to say, I wrote this at work. Warning, kinda very crossover-y. I only have time to wrote one thing tonight, and I had a choice between more this and some long desire Red Dwarf slash. (my RD plot elephants, I don't get bunnies, I get elephants, are trying to stampede, so I made a compromise) And for the record, if it's bad, that's because... well, cleaning fish sucks. That's my excuse. Also, woo! Filing accident origin. 


	8. Origin the Eighth

One night Edmund gets stinking drunk and picks up a girl in a bar.  
  
The next morning, Edmund wakes up alone, and doesn't remember much of the previous night. And figures this is probably for the better.  
  
Eighteen months late, Edmund's doorbell rings. When he opens said door, he find a baby in a pink whicker basket. With the baby is a note which simply reads "His name is Osmond Darling, and he's yours now."  
  
A flood a vague memories of that night a bit over a year ago come back to him. The girl... her last name was Darling. A direct decendent of the very captain that his own grandfather had bickered with way back when.  
  
Edmund picks of the baby and slides the empty whicher basket into his home. He then turns to his cat, gray-brown in colour.  
  
"Lord Percy Percy," Edmund says to the cat. "May I introduce Osmond Darling-Blackadder?"  
  
Lord Percy Percy purrs.  
  
a/n: short. sweet. present tense. nothing terribly bad happens. (this is in No Way foreshadowing the next one. Not At All.) 


	9. Origin the Ninth

warning: Character Death. Lots of it.  
  
Osmond doesn't believe in love anymore.  
  
He did once.  
  
Osmond had been in love once.  
  
His name had been Kevin Darling, they had met in the emergency room of he local hospital. Kevin had tripped over a wayward plastic eggplant his crazy roommate had left lying around, fallen down two flights of stairs and, miraculously, had only broken his left wrist. Kevin had asked what Osmond was in for, and he said, completely deadpan, that he was having a baby.  
  
That had amused Kevin, which made him feel better, because sitting in the emergency with a broken wrist wasn't the most fun of experiences. After sitting and chatting for a bit, Osmond finally admitted that he was suffering mildly painful food poisoning, courtesy of his own crazy roommate.  
  
Since the ER is rather busy nowadays. Kevin and Osmond had gotten to know each other, and, surprisingly, they had a lot in common. (Roommates perilous to their health being one of these things) And by the time they were helped they had exchanged phone numbers and e-mails and agreed to catch a movie the next Thursday.  
  
This movie was followed by many other movies, as well as lunches, dinners and the occasional theater production.  
  
One day, over a shared kalimari at around three in the afternoon, Osmond looked across the plate at Kevin, who had chosen that exact moment to look at him. Their eyes locked, and slowly, their lips met in a first kalimari flavored kiss.  
  
Shortly after paying the bill and many minor snogs on the public transit system later, Kevin and Osmond made it to Kevin's flat. And neither of them tripped over the still way wards plastic eggplant.  
  
Later on, spooned up with Kevin, Osmond wondered if he might be in love.  
  
A few months later, in the same position, he was absolutely certain he was.  
  
A year or two after this affirmation, Kevin and Osmond had finally decided to get married already.   
  
However,, on the way to the ceremony, their taxi was caught between a bus and a green mini-van.  
  
The driver, a man named George, who had been very nice to them, had died on impact, but Osmond and Kevin had been alive enough to rush to the hospital. The very hospital they had met in.  
  
Kevin had died upon arrival, due to blood loss and head trauma. However Osmond, amazingly, survived with minor injuries.  
  
He had shouted Kevin's name the moment he came to and looked around the small, clean hospital room wildly.  
  
Kevin was not there.  
  
His roommate was there, Osmond's own roommate was there. And a nurse, all of them looked at him like he had said the saddest thing in the world. He very well might have. Osmond asked for Kevin again.  
  
The nurse (who later would introduce herself as Nurse Mary) told Osmond in a very soft voice that Kevin was dead.  
  
"Dead?" Osmond said, "He can't be dead. We're getting married. We're late! We're going to live in a little townhouse, we're going to have a bloody cat! He's not dead! He can't be."  
  
The nurse patted his hand and told him that when he had recovered more she would take him down to see him.  
  
Osmond had insisted on going that moment. And after much, slightly hysterical, fuss, he was put on a wheelchair and wheeled down to the morgue.  
  
In anticipation of Osmond's arrival, they had taken Kevin out of his freezer storage locker and unzipped the black bag. Kevin lay on the table, eyes closed, lips blue, and with a single, admittedly large, gash across his forehead.  
  
Upon being brought into the morgue, Osmond had raised himself off his chair and stumbled over to Kevin's body. He had looked at him for a while, taken his hand and mumbled something incoherent at him. When Kevin didn't respond, Osmond buried his face into the juncture between Kevin's shoulder and neck and cried.  
  
Osmond didn't remember being taken back to his room. In fact, the rest of the week had been a blur. He'd been released, he'd gone to Kevin's funeral, which had seemed rather surreal and suddenly found himself sitting on a day-glo orange couch in the living room of their townhouse.  
  
Osmond healed, in his own way, he'd still get upset whenever he did something that he could picture Kevin doing.  
  
Except... except after a while, he wasn't just picturing Kevin doing things, he could see Kevin doing things. After a few weeks, he didn't even remember Kevin dying. And several months later, he was certain that they had gotten married that day.   
  
Life in the Darling-Blackadder home was fine, Osmond didn't get a lot of visitors, but whenever they came, Kevin always seemed to be out, he didn't mention this, and neither did the guests.  
  
Eventually, however, Kevin's crazy ex-roommate visited along with Nurse Mary, who he was now seeing (yes, like That) and she asked how Osmond was managing without Kevin.  
  
Osmond had been puzzled, what on Earth did she mean? He wasn't managing without Kevin, Kevin was there, he just wasn't in now.  
  
This had gotten people concerned.  
  
And now, Osmond Darling-Blackadder (but only Blackadder legally, after all, they hadn't really gotten married, had they?) sits on an armchair in the window of the hospital, his new home, and tries to remember.  
  
a/n: ending's bad, but for something I wrote by hand at AM, I think it's alright. And in regards to the last one. That one was really really normal. I absolutely swear that I'll never, ever do that again. Also, this was originally gonna be kinda like psycho. But I don't have the ability to write Osmond (namely because I love him dearly for reasons I don't remember) as a Norman Bates. I wanted to. But I can't, so I didn't. Right? Right. 


End file.
